


Storm Before The Calm

by Fractiouskat



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aayla is a sucker for her commander, Bly drinks his respect women juice, Bly is a simp for his general, F/M, First Kiss, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Undercover as a Couple, tactical fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29502069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractiouskat/pseuds/Fractiouskat
Summary: Early in the Clone Wars, Bly and Aayla are sent on an undercover mission to extract critical data from a Separatist-held planet.  Their goal?  To meet with their contacts at a glam event and its reception, get the data, and bolt.  They didn't realize they'd enjoy playing the part quite so much.
Relationships: CC-5052 | Bly & Aayla Secura, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	Storm Before The Calm

**Author's Note:**

> The idea hit me at hour 10 of a 15 hour cross-country drive through the polar vortex 2021 bullshit, and I said, you know what, it's Valentines Day. The world needs more Blyla fluff. The inspiring song was Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, and the title reflects that.
> 
> I've always been a sucker for the undercover-as-a-couple trope, and I *love* it for Aayla and Bly. Some people have done some really fun art of it, but I've not run into much fanfic. If you want to read it, write it, I guess!

The ballroom doors swung shut behind them and the blare of the music muffled to a more tolerable volume. Mission accomplished. Time to go.

“All right.” Aayla stepped down the pillar-lined corridor without looking back, letting her momentum pull her arm from Bly’s as she went. “We have a few hours before our pickup, we-”

She felt his fingertips trail down the silky cloth of her sleeve and catch her wrist. He didn’t so much stop her as add some drag until she looked back, confusion creasing her brow.

He was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place- gentle, searching, but with a twist of steel behind his honey-brown eyes that made her pause. His grip around her wrist loosened and slipped down to her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. It was a question, she realized- he was asking her to move back into him, taking the lead as he had when they’d spun on the ballroom floor.

“One more dance?”

She stood surprised for a heartbeat- dance to what? Oh, but then the muffled notes of a slow, heartbreaking melody snuck into her subconscious like smoke through the gaps in the ballroom door, and her resolve melted away. They had time- hours, really- they didn’t need to rush, as long as they stayed out of sight and out of mind. She laughed into a smile and let him pull her into a comfortable hold. 

It had been fun, after all- leaving the roles of General and Marshal Commander behind to play the part of starcrossed lovers. They’d met with their contacts and discreetly collected their stolen intel, flirting their way around with laughing looks and teasing touches, working the room before finding each other and selling their act. She had been genuinely impressed at how well her steady, composed commander had fallen into the role- though if she was being honest, she was even more surprised at her own response to it. It wasn’t acting when her eyes kept finding him across the crowded room. Fine clothes and a charming, casual smile looked incredible on him.

“One more,” she affirmed.

His broad hand settled against her back, respectfully avoiding her skin exposed by the elegant cutout of her dress. He took the hand he’d been holding and, to her quiet surprise, set it against his chest so her fingertips rested on the hard lines of his collarbone through the dark grey fabric of his shirt. Then he trailed his touch up and down her forearm, reverent and soft.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she was trying to let it out without making an inelegant noise. Technically, nothing was different from their perfectly tactical dancing amidst the crowds of the party, but now there was no one to impress, or fool, or distract. This was just for themselves.

If it were a ruse, though, why did it feel so _real_?

She shook her head slightly and let the press of his body against hers take her out of her own thoughts and into the rhythm of the music. The delicate jewelry on her lekku jingled as they swayed with her movement, the inside of the left one brushing against his hand on her shoulder blade. It startled her- she could suddenly almost taste him, feel the surge of pheromones through the chemoreceptors there, and-

Well. Goddess bless him, it wasn’t the lustful cocktail she expected from a man with his hands inches from her goods. It was protective, and bonded, and blissful, absolutely relaxed without an ounce of the stress that his calm demeanor usually belied. 

It was _intoxicating_.

And then his cheek brushed against her temple, a place normally covered by her lekku-harness in day-to-day operations. A flickering tinge of intimacy colored her thoughts, and she realized it was coming from his mind, slipping past his shields and into hers. Her eyes closed, utterly absorbed in the delightfully novel feel of him like this.

\- Until there was a thump of hands on doors and the music blared shockingly loud.

_“I thought I told you to keep an eye on the-”_

Before she could even process the stab of adrenaline that the loud voice startled out of her, she was being spun around and shoved against the wall beside a nearby pillar. The tips of her lekku slapped against the cold marble, but her back never made contact- she was being held firmly to her commander’s chest. The thud that rocked through her body was Bly’s hand against the stone beside her head. 

Then the pressure against her back was gone, and his hand grabbed at hers and shoved it down against his hard-muscled midsection, pressing her palm against something long and rigid and _Bly what in the kriff is **that**_ -

Oh. _Oh_. Lightsaber. Her lightsaber. He had agreed to carry it on him when her outfit had proved far too light and airy to conceal it. He’d tucked it away somewhere that it didn’t print against the fabric of his clothes, but she’d never bothered to ask where. Apparently ‘in his waistband’ was the correct answer. She shuddered out a breath as she reached into the force to feel for the intent of the intruders, and willed the deep flush of indigo to leave her face.

{Steady,} she whispered into his mind. His presence in the force was all angles again, tactical and cold, running dizzyingly through scenarios. {Three contacts. One is our target. Steady.} He flickered an affirmative back at her. 

Then the curtain beside them moved. She felt him tense, ready to whip around and take on the threat. _No, they couldn't blow their cover now, not with who they'd been seen with, the whole network would be compromised if they went on the offensive_. Thinking on her feet, she grabbed the side of his face and dragged him down into a kiss.

He went absolutely _rigid_. 

Her hand tightened around her concealed lightsaber and used it to pull him tight against her, arching her back into his body and deepening the kiss to try and sell the act. 

{You’re sorry and you’ll leave us alone,} she projected into the intruder’s mind, ignoring the frantic bubbling of Bly’s subconscious. {Move along.}

“I, uh-”

{We’re being inappropriate, you’re _sorry_ and you’ll _leave us alone_ ,} she repeated, more firmly. 

“S- so sorry,” came the dazed voice, and the curtain fell back into place. 

\---

When she laughed about it to Anakin later, she’d say that they stayed frozen in an awkward kiss until she let him go with an apology he had accepted with grace and composure.

But in truth, the gentle hand that came to cradle her jaw as he sunk into the kiss, his lips liquor-smooth and intoxicating, stayed stuck on loop in her mind for months.


End file.
